Author
Topic: FUCK YOU AND YOUR JOB (Read 3223 times)

I have never said this, but I thought it might be a jumping off point for the collective to recount tales of walking out of employment in fine style.

My closest effort was when in training for a repeat University call centre job whereupon we would call graduates and beg for a £20 direct debit (this was 1996). As part of a dehumanised contrived reminiscence of the previous summer's 'fun' I was asked for my favourite memory, where upon I answered it was watching Pete sit in the corner all night calling his mates. Got a big laugh. Got side eye, and when I called in to resign the following week it was clear there was no regret on behalf of my employer. Ah well. I'd say it was their loss but quite frankly it wasn't.

One of my first jobs, the owner had been bought out of his previous firm writing ATM software and was clearly bored not being able to have power over employees.

He wanted to make a natural language recognition platform in the days when apple hadn't acquired Siri, took great pleasure in writing prolog to generate procedural java that was years out of date in style, pretensions of using some old linguistic theory text from the 60s and the basis of his business model.

It was clearly a jolly for him, parades of ex amazoners and googlers in contract for caché that produced nothing other than reccomending we use the nascent amazon and google cloud platforms.

One of my early tasks was a incident review stemming from the fact he had set the web server password to admin:password and somehow they'd been taken over to sell moody pharmaceuticals.

All the same he got me and a freshly graduated friend to stand up his entire dev infrastructure, get a chart parser running and intent prediction classifier working all in the days when neural networks were still not de rigueur.

My colleagues and I were able to get a non-bullshit demo for him to present to his old banking contacts, while he was flush with pride over pulling himself up by his bootstraps yet again he told us there was no scope to pay us grads above minimum wage.

Walked out while telling him what a grifter-fantasist he was, he agreed to allow me to collect my hardware on the condition I delete all of my valuable big-board photos from his warped leadership sessions.

He's still running the company as a shell/tax dodge/consultation concern on how to optimise banks black card service offerings. His children and wife being the only ones on the payroll.

At least I learned you don't need to be capable or talented to succeed, a lesson I try to embody every day. Well that and be conscious that businesses will attempt to underpay and overwork grads under the guise of lack of experience and to assure they're uplifted and instructed to not feel any attachment to what happens to be their fist employer.

Dodgy Internet site firm who got a story in the Daily Mirror for ripping off a little old lady for 8k or something for a WordPress site had me as their IT dude

It was proper bleak, sales twats drunk or doing beak all day, thinking I'm some kind of waiter for electrical appliances. Cunts trying to intimidate me to "get them" a Macbook, the snotty little director of marketing a total cunt, buying loads of business numbers off Experian and having his slime team cold call them - all small business owners with personal mobiles, right on the edge of the law, hassling them to GET A WEBSITE.

Despite my famously serene personality, I got well fucked off with it, arguments a plenty over dumb stuff like being in the middle of bringing their website back up and the marketing director prick standing there screaming at me that some bird spilled water on her phone and we need to make sure she can call people NOW.

Other joys of this workplace included a love triangle. This lass worked with her fella and it was a poorly kept secret that he was spurting his coke-addled semen up her best friend. I normally would give zero fucks but the gf was heavily pregnant and they all worked together and the atmosphere become ever more rancid.

A reporter was ootside one lunch and I happily told him I had tracked the company director's history through the Company House search, he had a string of failed businesses and this one was in his dullard son's name. I strongly believe the two faced receptionist saw me through the glass front, for the next day I was called into an office with the bitchy HR lass.

I took my dismissal well (no reason was given, she basically ranted about how she reckoned I had slagged her personally off, which was not unrealistic but I had zero friends there so this was nothing more than an accurate guess.)

I suppose with hindsight being 20/20, the fact I'd spent the previous few days shoring up another job I was starting the next week helped. I had also sellotaped half a chicken breast quite tightly to the underside of the marketing director's pushed-together bank of desks, right in the middle. Plus a few other things, like filling his draw with turmeric.

They kept paying me for about six months before they went bust as yet another newspaper article appeared, which I didn't mind. Last I heard they'd been sued to high fuck and back with debts over a million. The owner had fucked off to his villa in Spain and there were a lot of unhappy creditors.

When I left my last job at Addenbrookes Hospital in October there was a new IT company coming in to take over from the old one. We weren't given many details, but were told that our existing terms and conditions would be retained - but they would never give us written confirmation of this when we asked.About 6 weeks before the changeover date I was called by someone I know who works in IT recruitment, and he mentioned that he'd been approached to find candidates for the new company. The working hours were completely different and most of the perks/bonuses weren't included.

A few days after this our whole team was on a conference call with the new company's HR Manager, so I again asked about the new deal. When they offered a vague non-committal response, I asked why they were advertising the same jobs under different T&Cs. More vague responses followed, so I outright asked for a guarantee of what was on offer to be given in writing that week. Nothing was sent.

Cut to 2 weeks later, and we had another conference call and I patiently waited until the AOB section at the end. As our HR was also on the call I was able to tell them that I was officially giving my notice and, due to my accrued leave, that was going to be my last day.

I was then asked by the incumbant HR manager why I had decided to leave and I was able to tell them directly that I had no interest whatsoever in working for them and considered them to be amateurish and untrustworthy. I also mentioned that I didn't think they understood the size or demands of the hospital's requirements and had only won the tender because they'd undercut everyone else and would be doing everything on the cheap.

It felt REALLY good!

Epiloguei) My IT recruitment mate saw my job advertised a week or so later - at 15k less than I was on.ii) 3 of the 4 people who moved to the new company have already left.iii) The new company have had a request to renegotiate the contract with the hospital turned down.

6. “A colleague’s good friend had been wooed up by my company for a good 6 months. He was utterly qualified in ways we needed, a very nice guy, the perfect employee. Alluring phone calls, escalating propositions, nice dim sum lunches, they went all out. Finally, he accepted, and a starting date was set.

We had flextime at that company, meaning every waking hour was spent there but you could pretty much choose when to be awake. Alas, that particular week a couple of us (I’m one of the guilty parties) had particularly gnarly personal things to deal with before getting to work, and consistently didn’t make it in before 11-12. And equally alas, we were on the West Coast in financial services, so we already started the day ‘late’ by market standards, and to add to this the CEO was a fanatical morning person. Normally he left us to it, but this specific week he was in a bad mood, and got riled up by our seeming slackness (partly caused by staying at work way past his bedtime, but that’s another story).

So he did what Alison repeatedly warns you not to: instead of dragging the culprits into his office and giving them the personal drubbing he thought they deserved, he wrote a memo to everyone. So on his second day that Second Coming Guy meandered in to work, at a reasonable 10ish, and he found a memo on his chair saying something like ‘I’d like to remind y’all that technically your working hours are 8-5, and that you really should be here as close to that as possible blah blah blah.’ He raised his elegant eyebrows, said in a not overly loud but very clear tone of voice, ‘Oh, I can’t deal with that,’ delicately put the memo back on the chair, and walked out, never to be seen again.

Nobody was ever reprimanded for their hours again at that place, not even a hint.”

I've mentioned it before, call centre(worked there over a year and I was a bloody good seller), took maybe two calls,put my phone on hold, waited until the rest of my team around me were on calls,grabbed my bag and legged it. Drove home really fast,my phone vibrating constantly, went to the shop bought a bottle of wine, got home and downed it in two minutes,fell asleep, woke up with many missed calls, including my then girlfriend who was down as emergency contact.

I could have thrown in free benefits on customer policies, but that would just caused them hassle,and I wouldn't have been paid the commission. I just couldn't fucking take it anymore,I'm not going to shit on anyone who can stick it for years or enjoys it, but it takes a certain psyche to embrace full zombification and lack of critical thinking that was rife.

Team leader was a whiney little spherical fuck toad, I wish I'd have used turmeric as part of my exit, could have injected her with pure turmeric puree, she was heavily fake tanned so wouldn't have noticed.

A terminally unemployed mate who finally decided to join the rest of us at the only place nearby that was offering paid work at the time, a huge greenhouse growing tomatoes, aubergines and the like. We were very encouraged that he had taken this important step and confident that it would be the springboard that set him on the right path in life.

Day one: morning break, he was in the corner of the canteen almost scratching his entire face off as his various skin complaints had flared up in the heat and turned his head into a giant flakey raspberry.

Day one: lunch break, he wasn't there. I later found out he got stung on the arse by a wasp and told his line manager to go and fuck himself.

Worked in a notoriously druggy and dodgy nightclub after a few months on the dole unable to find anything else. It was actually alright in some senses - they were such a pack of cunts I didn't feel bad about filling my water bottle with vodka at the start of a night - and the bar was so busy that the tips could really stack up. The problem was the management/general ethos. Essentially members of staff would go out and pick up passed out girls at the end of the night and take them home and stuff.

When I said something about this kind of behaviour it was made clear my days there were numbered. So I got a part time job at a bookshop (although this meant no sleep for a few months as the club ended at 4am and the shop started at 6am - I was too broke to just walk out). Then when I was working in the cloakroom on what I'd decided would be my final night I 'accidentally' gave someone the cunt manager's coat, with his ridiculous and much-bragged-about electronic car keys in and left a shitty message on the notice board saying 'I'm fucking off, take it easy x'

I can see elements of my last job (which I walked out of, albeit in a friendly manner) in all these IT startup horror stories. The one thing I've learned about working is tech, is never to work in tech. It is the epitome of selling people shit they don't need, of doing less for more, of bestowing supreme importance on things of almost no significance - particularly at the marketing end of operation.

I thought working in interiors was a load of bollocks, but at least that can be justified by the fact people do actually need something to sit down on and somewhere to place their mug. In comparison to selling people security patches and intangible doo-dahs, it's virtually a community service.

1. McDonalds around 2001. Working at the grills I turned around to see a mate standing about to order. Before he spotted me I ducked and slunk out the back door. The large, unattractive manager tried to persuade me to stay saying I could be a manager but I wasn't at all interested. I was done with McJobs. I could no longer live with the embarrassment.

2. Call centre type job in 2015. Sold as client satisfaction job but client contempt more like everything was upselling. Also diary booking which I loathed beyond anything before or since. I hated it so much and was stressed and not very good at it. After taking me aside for a gentle bollocking for the fifth time I told the cunt I'd had enough and that client satisfaction was their lowest priority and I'd rather just leave immediately if that's alright. Cunt started giving me a dear John speech despite it being my idea. Grabbed me coat and fucked off. Never regretted it for a second. It was such a relief, a natural euphoria.

3. One last one. Did a 9 month internship in 2014 in a tiny property management office in a crappy industrial estate a 90 minute bus journey from my flat. After 9 months of essentially no money from them they offered me minimum wage. I declined the offer. They said it was their procedure but I didn't give a fuck. They had 4 office staff and filled the kettle in the tiny toilet sink. No thanks, I'll look for something better. In fairness I did honour the 9 month contract. My career was that bad at the time.

Probably left more but can't think of any except a kitchen helper/commis chef job around 1999. Couldn't be arsed making chips with a knife and didn't appreciate the sexist banter flying about the place. Kitchens can be like that. Half the kitchen staff would be in prison if they weren't chefs.

A terminally unemployed mate who finally decided to join the rest of us at the only place nearby that was offering paid work at the time, a huge greenhouse growing tomatoes, aubergines and the like. We were very encouraged that he had taken this important step and confident that it would be the springboard that set him on the right path in life.

Day one: morning break, he was in the corner of the canteen almost scratching his entire face off as his various skin complaints had flared up in the heat and turned his head into a giant flakey raspberry.

Day one: lunch break, he wasn't there. I later found out he got stung on the arse by a wasp and told his line manager to go and fuck himself.

McDonald's. Only job I've walked out of, though I'd technically just been sacked beforehand. I suffered several burns when put on the grill without being trained, with them saying they'd 'train me on it', which basically meant sticking me on it and letting me figure out which parts were hot the caveman way. After I refused to go on it again (showing the several bandages covering ointment-slathered burns on my hands applied by my nurse-trained mam) the manager took me into his office and said I'd 'failed my probation' and was 'not flexible'. He asked me to go change out of my uniform and hand it in, so I said 'sure' and then just got me bag, changed into my streets, walked out and never went back. Dumped my uniform in a skip on the way home, drank half a bottle of Kraken, and fell asleep. Best Sunday I've ever worked, mate.

My first job was at a Sainsbury's after leaving university, as I had no experience whatsoever due to my applications for part-time jobs going nowhere during my college years.

I found it daunting going from years of education to employment, even though the hours were initially part-time across about four days. In hindsight and with my experience since, it was a piece of piss, really.

I was assigned to the cold food section with another new bloke, so I at least was training with someone who's also inexperienced. I think it was on the fifth shift I had to work from 5-9pm (on a Thursday).

I came in and the most experienced bloke there, Graham, gave me the task of unloading four roll-cages of cold produce. As I started off putting a small trolley of sandwiches out (at the start of the evening when hardly anyone would buy them), the till manager told me to hop on a till but to finish what I was doing, which didn't take very long. I did a u-turn into an aisle and saw the till manager speaking with Graham and he had his jacket on. Graham said, ''No, no, let him stay here. He's got to learn''.

Once Graham pissed off home a minute or so later, Till Cunt came by and told me to go on the tills again. I stated that I needed to stay here, but he just quickly shook his head and said ''Tills!'' and walked off. I was almost bewildered by his sneaky manoeuvre. It was a stupid decision of his as the cold food mustn't stay out for longer than thirty minutes and I was the only one in that section. If someone could've taken over from me, why couldn't they be on a till?!

I stormed off upstairs, put on my jacket and strode out of there. Till Cunt spotted me walking out and appeared concerned, saying ''He's leaving, he's leaving.''

I received a call and voicemail from the admin staff, asking to come back because I hadn't clocked out. I officially left the following day.

Funnily enough, I was in there last week and noticed most of the tills have been replaced by self-service checkouts; they possibly added few more since the penultimate time I was there (about a year ago). I think there originally were about twelve tills, now it's four.

The tills were fucking tedious. Relentlessly scanning food along over and over for several hours was a nightmare. If an item wouldn't scan through on more than one attempt, the alternative was to type in a 30-digit code as an impatient customer stared at me. This put enough pressure on me to mistype the fucker and start again.

I also wasn't sure how to remove the tags off of alcohol bottles and put my hand for assistance. A customer I was serving looked like a cross between Omid Djalili and Alexei Sayle and had a self-assured cockney swagger about him and said ''Wha' are ya doin'?! Put the boh-ul over there, then pull it downwards,'' and it actually came off. I apologised to him and tried to tell him I'm new and didn't want to break the neck of the bottle by guessing the removal method, then he briefly pointed at me with a chopping motion and coolly said ''Yeah, shu' up!''. He also claimed I shortchanged him by a pound. I told him to complain to customer services, then he said he was going to come back to collect the quid. I handed it over and said sorry again. He sincerely said ''Oh no, it's alright'' before exiting. I've seen him a couple of times over the years, wearing a checkered chef hat, standing beside a shitty pub while smoking.

Never quite had the balls to do a walk out. I did send a super snotty email to my old boss at Ofsted, after she sacked me for taking two days off sick (I was temping so she could do this). I had taking time off a couple of weeks earlier to attend my grandfather's funeral, and she felt that I hadn't been sufficiently dedicated enough to my temporary, minimum wage admin role.

It was great fun to send, but reading it back later my gosh I sounded a twat. My next job I had for 3 years I had to walk past the entrance every morning, I reckon I passed my old boss in the street at least once a week. Weird, she never said hello.

When I was a teenager a big house up the road from ours got converted into a hotel, so I went to see if they had any weekend jobs going. They told me to come back on Saturday and they'd find me something, so I did and someone pointed at a big pile of washing up and told me to get cracking on it. I asked what my pay/hours etc would be and they said "Well, let's see how you get on with that." I said that I wanted to know I'd be getting paid for the work I did, ans they said "Well if you're just here for the money you may as well not bother." I failed to say "No, I'm actually here because washing pots is my hobby." and left.

Totally forgot about another one I walked out of around 2000. A company that made those plastic sheets you see on the side of some lorries, they're called curtains. The job consisted of using a thing that was like a hair dryer except 50 times hotter and you'd weld plastic together with it. It wasn't my cup of tea because I kept burning myself with it and the owner wasn't happy with my work-rate. Also I was put off because the lunchroom had working class banter that was often sexual in nature and people would be ripping the piss. I knew after a day or two that I didn't fit in. The last straw came when one of the older lads told me "Fuck off outta me face" quite aggressively. I decided then and there they were a complete set of cunts and could place their job right in their back hole. I went straight to the manager and said a week and a half of this job was more than enough for me. He made some half-hearted attempt to persuade me to stay, probably because a fucking monkey could do it and he'd have to bother his arse to find a replacement if I fucked off but I knew I wasn't going to get on with this group of lower class roustabouts so declined his offer.

Walked out of a kitchen job after about an hour because the wages were beyond dogshit and I could instantly tell the two women running the operation had't a clue what they were doing but there's no more story to that.

Fuck me that's at least 5 jobs I've left with no notice at all. And that's just the ones I can think off.

I worked at a pub for 7 years. After my first manager left after about 4 years, they really struggled in finding a long term replacement.

After a few failed attempts came another - a "lad's lad" prick who thought he was the top man for the job. He made numerous decisions during his tenure that demonstrated to the staff, customers - and eventually, his bosses - that he was terrible.

My turning point was following a staff meeting where he delegated for his assistant manager to take the inserts from the Sunday papers out of the plastic and display everything at the front of the bar entrance. Meanwhile, I proceeded in setting the bar as I was assigned to do. Then the manager comes back from walking his dogs and calls me over with a finger beckoning in that patronising awful way you would think only happens in films. He then rudely berates me for the inserts not being out of the plastic (the assistant manager had dumped them in a pile and that was it) and was generally trying to make me feel like it was my responsibility all of sudden. He did it in a manner that made my internal thought go FUCK THIS. So after I amended the display, I went up to his office, went on to his computer, wrote my resignation out, printed it off, signed it, took one of his envelopes and left it on his desk. I left soon after.

A couple of years passed and it this point I was hired independently by the same pub (new management) to host the quiz, as I used to. It was a solid success but the wife of the manager was an alcoholic and constantly rude and aggressive, and didn't like the fact that I represented some kind of "old guard" in her mind. Following a refurb in October, they approached me to end the quiz because not enough people were drinking and it wasn't bringing in enough people, which was bollocks. I insisted that they hold out for the Christmas one as it there were regulars who had been playing the quiz for years and it would be nice to go out on a high.

On the Christmas quiz night, both bars were absolutely packed. I counted 29 teams, with a £500 jackpot at £2 per person. It was a roaring success which made my departure all the more bittersweet.

Months later, the wife of the manager sat in the bar drunkenly slagging off an ex-member of staff who was sitting nearby. The ex-member of staff heard the wife calling her fat, and walked over and punched her in the face.

Months later, the wife of the manager sat in the bar drunkenly slagging off an ex-member of staff who was sitting nearby. The ex-member of staff heard the wife calling her fat, and walked over and punched her in the face.

A couple of years passed and it this point I was hired independently by the same pub (new management) to host the quiz, as I used to. It was a solid success but the wife of the manager was an alcoholic and constantly rude and aggressive, and didn't like the fact that I represented some kind of "old guard" in her mind. Following a refurb in October, they approached me to end the quiz because not enough people were drinking and it wasn't bringing in enough people, which was bollocks. I insisted that they hold out for the Christmas one as it there were regulars who had been playing the quiz for years and it would be nice to go out on a high.

On the Christmas quiz night, both bars were absolutely packed. I counted 29 teams, with a £500 jackpot at £2 per person. It was a roaring success which made my departure all the more bittersweet.